


Fem Sniper/Spy "Interesting and Gorgeous"

by WheatleyBetterBeInPortal3



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Choking, F/M, Female Characters, Femdom, First Dates, Flirting, Fluff and Smut, Heterosexual Sex, Male-Female Friendship, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Sex, Smut, Stress Relief, Vaginal Sex, Woman on Top
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:20:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24939703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WheatleyBetterBeInPortal3/pseuds/WheatleyBetterBeInPortal3
Summary: Spy is curious about his team's female sniper, and invites her to his place for some much needed "stress relief". She is wary of "the spook's" motives, but gives him a chance anyway. Work is not the only frustration wearing her down. A smutty and fluffy exploration of character dynamics. I like writing flirty dialogue stuff.
Relationships: Sniper/Spy (Team Fortress 2)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 20





	Fem Sniper/Spy "Interesting and Gorgeous"

**Author's Note:**

> If you want help picturing what mask-less Spy probably looks like, this amazing fan art by Wachtelspinat was what I had in mind.
> 
> https://wachtelspinat.tumblr.com/post/171190100886/bruh  
> https://wachtelspinat.tumblr.com/post/174802651871/before-i-can-scribble-sth-new-i-have-to-get-rid-of
> 
> Because, let's be real, wearing a balaclava in bed would be a sweaty horrible nightmare.
> 
> Also, this is not the Spy that's banging Scout's mom...Unless that makes it hotter for you somehow? lol

The Spy could not understand it. But he also could no longer ignore it. Perhaps it was the peculiarity of his attraction to her that made him all the more curious. She was not his usual type. She dressed casually. Practically. Like a labourer. Though, her clothes did fit her well, he had to admit. Her way of speaking should have put him off as well, lower class and sometimes crass. But she could be quite clever too. Her accent mangled and drew out the stranger sounds of the already ugly sounding English language. But, he found there was something charming in that too. 

He found her smoking with a distant expression as she leaned heavily against a rusting railing.

“Staring wistfully into the abyss, mon amie?” The spy asked coolly as he raised his cigarette to his lips. His voice made her jump. The sniper had heard that voice moments after the sting of a blade in her back too many times before. This was her own team’s spy. But, her instinct to flinch defensively did not know the difference.

“Just tired.” She responded flatly, trying the very least to be polite. She was not in the mood for conversation.

“Trouble sleeping in zhe van?”

“Trouble sleeping anywhere. Not good at it.” She looked to him, unsure of why he would take interest.

“Zhat’s a shame.” He breathed his smoke lazily away from her, eyes scanning the horizon idly. “Stress I suppose?”

The sniper smiled and shook her head at the understatement. “Yeah.” The spy let her response settle into a long contemplative silence between them.

“I ’ave requested a few days off...I will be returning to one of my apartments for that time...” Something gave her the sense his statement was intended as an invitation. But, she did not want to be presumptuous.“Sounds nice,” was all she commented, hoping he would elaborate.

He moved closer, blowing a smoke cloud over his shoulder and flicking his cigarette away. Though she sensed a significance to his now intimate proximity, she did not move or turn to face him. If this was some sort of advance on his part, she wanted to see how it played out before reacting. She was not sure how she felt about him yet.

He spoke in a lower, softer tone, “You could take a break from ze van...and join me.”

She smiled, her suspicions confirmed. “I told you, the van’s not the problem.”

He chuckled softly. “I may be able to help with zhe stress, though.”

“How generous.” She knew exactly what he was implying, and had no doubt he was more interested in his own enjoyment than actually relieving any stress of hers. She would not fall for his feigned interest in her well-being. But she would accept the offer all the same. Work and insomnia were not the only frustrations wearing her down.

\--

His building was a lavish, gated, mountaintop nest with scarce else around. The neighboring flats were likely the holiday homes of some oil baren's trust fund children. _Who else 'round here could afford such a view?_ she thought. When he had opened the door, she nearly did not recognize him. No mask. No suit jacket, or tie. A bit more grey hair than she was expecting, all expertly trimmed into a smart, dashing shape. The desert panorama glowed behind him through a window that sprawled a full wall.

She felt out of place. She had worn her better clothes for this, but she felt that even they did not belong here. He did not seem to mind though. He clearly enjoyed playing host, having prepared an elegant looking dinner that now sat waiting on the granite counter top as he drifted about his kitchen. He offered her a few different wines she had never heard of, so she chose the easiest one to pronounce. It was awful. But she strained it down without revealing her disgust like a champion. She was going to need it to calm her nerves.

Conversation at the table proved difficult. She had never tried to engage with, ‘the spook,’ before, and had no idea what they might have in common. She resorted to looking out the window as if lost in the beauty of the view each time an awkward silence began to grow.

“Spy,” She finally said, “why’d you bring me here, mate?” The spy’s fork and knife stopped a moment at the directness of her inquiry. Then he resumed eating as if unphased.

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve never spoken to me before. And now I’m a guest in your...” she gestured around the spacious flat, “ _mansion_.” She clearly intended this description to be hyperbolic, but Spy chuckled at the idea all the same.

“She ‘as some nice fixtures to be sure. But, ‘ardly a mansion.”

“What I mean is...” She struggled. “I live...as you, so frequently, have pointed out...in a ‘van’.” Spy lifted his eyes from his plate to her, calculating how to navigate this tricky conversation on class. “Why would _you_ ,” she continued, “be interested in...someone who lives in a camper? And wears canvas trousers to work? Y’know what I mean mate?”

“I know what you mean.” He understood the question, but could not yet articulate the answer for himself. He stared into the table, trying to compose something elegant to say, to save the evening from ending all together, which now felt like a very real possibility.

“You are...” he trailed off. _‘interesting’? No, that sounded weak, ‘gorgeous’? No, might come off_ _as_ _shallow if that were the only reason he could give._ He cleared his throat and poured himself more wine to buy himself time.

She had never seen him in this flustered state. She felt bad for upending the mood so badly, not that it had been going superbly before. His eyes caught hers. His expression surprised her. Intense, sincere, and even a hint of fear.

“I brought you here,” he began slowly, looking out the window as he chose his words, “because I wanted to enjoy an evening with you.” He looked back to her. “Is zhat so unbelievable?”

She was not sure how to respond to this. A fair enough answer. A nice sentiment, if she believed it. Though, she felt it safer to lean on the assumption he only saw her as an easy lay. Guarded as she was, she was not about to end the evening. He was a handsome, well dressed man, who had invited her for some, probably, no strings attached, ‘stress relief’, which she still felt very much in need of. Navigating to that end was proving more difficult than she had anticipated.

“Can I get some more wine? Maybe the red one this time.”

“Of course,” he was relieved she changed the subject.

A few glasses later, the conversation finally loosened. They stood near the grand window, glasses in hand. The light was fading as the sun retreated below the horizon, outlining them in gold.

“...Your hair...” she said, well aware of her buzz induced confidence, “it’s nice. I like this bit in the front,” She gestured on her own forehead, drawing an imitation of the small swooshing shape of his locks. He grinned smugly at her compliment, responding only by sipping from his glass while his eyes traced a few of his favourite features on her.

“What was that look?” She asked.

“Hmmm,” he deflated, letting the words he had discarded earlier tumble out now, “you are... _interesting_.”

“’interesting’?” She quirked an eyebrow.

“And...gorgeous.” He sent the word out awkwardly. But he was ready to stand behind its truth.

“’ _G_ _orgeous’_?” She looked shyly away with a short laugh, “Spy!?” When she looked back she found herself in a kiss. She inhaled his cologne, or aftershave, or whatever that expensive scent was. Her hand, not holding the wine glass, hovered in front of her, unsure of where to land on him. His free hand drifted to her lower back, gently bringing them together. She finally let her palm rest on the soft fabric of his shirt.

“Well. You’re ‘ _interesting and gorgeous’_ too,” she mocked, smirking at how it sounded even less graceful in her own accent. The spy smiled, eyes darting around her face, taking her in. She was not expecting him to be so tender and affectionate about all this. She thought his invitation had been blunt with implication of his intention.

He gently lifted her empty glass from her fingers. “Shall we,” he gestured to the suite of lavish furniture that defined an area in the sprawling space as the lounge, “take a seat and relax awhile?”

 _What kind of flat ha_ _s_ _a_ _marble_ _fireplace?_ She thought, as he turned a dial to ignite it. It was almost too much, she went on assessing her host. His place was _designed_ for this kind of romantic crap. He was practiced. She tried not to think about how many women had probably sat exactly here before, as he settled into the sofa next to her, his arm strategically draped behind her, no doubt ready to scoop her into him when things heated up.

She had trouble letting go of the idea of him being “the spook”. The slippery snake that deceived and betrayed professionally. “Is everything alright?” he interrupted her thoughts.

She was not about to explain her apprehensions to him. She just wanted to put her fingers through that hair, and unbutton that shirt, and give her body a long neglected pleasure at his hands. She hooked a finger into his collar and pulled him into another kiss.

“We do not need to rush this,” he said, retreating after a few seconds. He sensed his guest was forcing this from herself somewhat. “I did not bring you here to ambush you,”

She wanted desperately to be done with the forced small-talk part of this affair. Her hands raked up his chest, then down the sides of his neck as she spoke. “Maybe I came here to ambush _you._ ” Her voice was a growl that warned she would not be derailed.

Her aggression tantalized him. “Hmm?” he hummed through a grin. “Is zhat so?” She clearly knew what she wanted, so he was happy to oblige her eagerness.

_\--_

Their make-out session migrated to his plush bed, with him on top. She had worked the top several buttons of his shirt open, but otherwise they were both still fully clothed.

“You seem nervous.” He commented, as she had squirmed uncomfortably at his hand venturing up beneath her shirt.

“It’s just...” she laughed at herself embarrassed, “been awhile.” She placed her hand over his, nudging it to continue, but he brought it to the side of her face and smoothed back her hair affectionately.

“Me too.” He flashed an arrestingly-charming smile.

“What?” She pinned him with a skeptical glare.

“ _Weeellll..._ ” His eyes flicked thoughtfully to the ceiling as a devilish grin spread his face. “Perhaps not, _so_ long. Depends one’s definition I suppo-” She covered his mouth with her palm.

“I don’t want to hear about it.” She said flatly. His devious laughter was muffled against her hand.

\--

A few removed articles of clothing later, he was kissing lower and lower across her abdomen with an obvious destination in mind. He landed on a ticklish spot. “Ah!” A short, surprisingly girlish, giggle escaped her, as she flinched involuntarily. He looked up at her, his face screwed up with amusement.

“I ‘ave never ‘eard you make zhat sound before.” He teased.

She laced her fingers through his hair. “Do your job right, and you’re gonna hear _a lot_ of sounds outta me you never did before, mate.” She steered him where he was already headed, and he was all too willing to comply.

_\--_

He took pride in the flushed, writhing, mess he was capable of reducing her too. She was trying to hold back, he could tell. She twisted and gripped, the bed, the pillows, and him, trying to send the overwhelming energy of these sensations somewhere. The strain he could see it created within her was exquisitely erotic for him.

She clamped her moans into desperate hums and restrained panting whines. He gave her the relief of a break as he paused to tease her, “Are you afraid you will wake zhe neighbours?” She did not respond as she panted to regain a more regular heart rate. He slinked up the bed to enjoy her flushed hazy expression more closely. She blinked her daze away and made eye contact.

That superior grin. That, ‘ _I have you just how I want you’,_ look. Seeing it on him struck her with a powerful but confusing emotion. She wanted to smack that smug look off his face...no...she wanted to _fuck_ that smug look off his face.

His smirk fell slightly as he noticed her expression shifting mysteriously into something like anger. She shoved him off and rolled to take position over him. She grabbed his throat, clawing her nails into his flesh, causing a heightened tension she could feel in his breath. His brow knit with surprise. Her other hand gripped his hair, turning his ear to her. “Don’t give me that smug grin, Spook,” She snarled.

\--

She rode out the compounded frustrations of hundreds of lonely nights, every lost match, every missed shot, every back stab at the hands of the other spook. This job had assaulted her nerves and drained so much from her, and she had decided he was going to give it all back tonight. _He asked for this,_ she thought. _He wanted this. Let him have it._

He watched, mesmerized, as she swung from aggression, to ecstasy, to fury, to euphoria, to rage. Add whatever _this_ was to the list, next to _‘interesting’_ and _‘gorgeous’._ _‘Dangerous?’_ He thought as she gripped his throat again, this time with both hands, _possibly a bit psychotic?_ He was not sure if this made his attraction to her make more, or less sense.

‘ _Unpredictable,’ sounded better._ If she ever asked him to explain his reasons again, he would go with that.

He normally withheld the sounds of his own pleasure, attempting to maintain his dignity, and only yielding to such base displays at the penultimate moment. But her intensity was contagious. He groaned and growled through gritted teeth. He felt himself striking her deepest wall. A long moan floated openly forth from him as his face went slack, eyes rolling up into their lids.

The expression she found on him now, more than made up for the smug grin that had set her off. She _had_ fucked it right off him. “What’s that, Spook?” she taunted near his ear. He exhaled a long shuttering breath that evolved into another moan. It was her new favourite sound.

She repeated the angle that had accomplished it the first time, feeling him hit a delightful spot in her. His spine arched and his fingers clawed into the mattress. He loosed a loud pleasure filled note that dissolved into a half-formed French phrase, then he laughed at himself as he relaxed back into the bed.

Without thinking, she slowed to a stop and loosened her grip. They searched each other quizzically. He wore a genuine smile, carried over from his laughter, a far cry from any of his condescending smirks.

“I don’t normally do zhat.” he explained.

“Me neither.” She said, indicating her bizarre, choke-holding, rage-fucking.

After a curious silence, as they considered the strange behaviour they had inspired in each other, they met in a passionate kiss. They caressed and traced each other’s features as their tongues played. Smaller, more delicate moans highlighting the best little moments.

She extracted herself from him. He groaned at the sensitivity caused by their decoupling.

“Sorry.” she winced, apologizing sincerely.

“Non.” he responded, brushing a bead of sweat from her forehead with his thumb, “You have been working very ‘ard. Take a break.”

She did not mean to leave him unfinished, as a matter of principle, but for the moment she was mentally, physically and emotionally drained. She flopped on her back beside him and rested the back of her hand on her burning, sweat-slicked forehead.

He rolled to prop himself on his elbows beside her, watching her. She felt his stare. “What’re ya lookin’ at?”

“A woman in my bed.” He shrugged with that arrestingly-charming smile again.

“Pshh,” she laughed, “like that’s such an anomaly.” She knew, a second after the words left her, that she was only teasing about his perceived promiscuity because of her own insecurities about it. And what was he supposed to respond to that with? _There I go killing the mood again,_ she thought, as she watched his grin fade slightly. “Sorry.”

His hair was thoroughly mussed. She reached out to fix it.

“For what?” he asked as he combed his fingers through the mess to smooth it to his own liking.

“You’ve been rather nice to me tonight. And I’ve only been rude.”

He watched her eyes scanning the ceiling as she processed something.

“Not rude.” He interrupted her pondering. “Maybe blunt at times...but, I like zhat about you.” His expression grew impish, “It stands you apart from the _hundreds_ of women that come _parading_ through zhis bedroom.”

She shook her head and rolled her eyes at his joke, smiling. He rolled to his back to recline dramatically with his hands behind his head, exaggerating his accent as he went on. “It is so ‘ard to find zhe time for so many _mademoiselles_.”

She turned to face him, intrigued by this playful side of him she had not yet met.

“In fact—” He said, looking as if he had suddenly remembered something, “You must be going.” He pushed her away, “I have another due to arrive at any minute.”

“ _Pshhh,_ alright, alright” she said, nestling closer to him so her head rested on his bicep. Her finger traced one of the red marks her nails had left on his neck.

“Do I ‘ave a battle scar?” He asked, feeling where she had touched.

“Heaps of ‘em, mate.”

He smiled with a short chuckle, “Good.” He rolled up to position himself over her, boxing her in with his elbows. “I like your way of doing things.”

She tried to picture how insane she must have looked, riding him with her murder face on. “Was it... ‘ _interesting_ ’?” She threw the phrase out in a self deprecating way.

“ _Very._ ” His voice growled low as he leaned in to place slow, hot, breathy kisses on her neck. Her heartbeat quickened again. She encircled him with her arms and legs.

“Now,” He said reaching down to ready himself for a second round, “I said I would help to relieve your stress, and I intend to deliver.”

\--

He worked slowly, enjoying watching the rise and fall of her ecstasy with each thrust. He purred some French into her ear. It always amused him how ladies reacted to this, as if his language held some inherent erotic magic, while to him it was only talking.

“What’dja say?” She asked.

“How beautiful you are,” he cooed, leaning intentionally into his accent.

She chortled at this, cut short as his thrust made her breath hitch. “You romantic sap.”

“I think you like it.” He defended, with his well practiced lady-killer smile as he thrust again. Her face tightened with pleasure, then settled into a wry smile, that said she was wise to his cheap tricks.

“Non?” He grabbed under her thighs and suddenly shifted her. She squeaked in surprise. Her legs now curled over his shoulders. He snarled in French, _“Is this more your style?”_ She did not know the language, but his meaning was clear. He pounded into her aggressively, drawing out cries of surprise and want as he struck her at a new depth.

The feel of her body began to carry him away. He smacked her ass and withdrew. He grabbed her and rolled her roughly over, re-entering her from behind. She felt his hand snake between her and the bed, and panted with a thrill as he found her most sensitive nerves. He railed her from behind as he worked her with his hand. She contorted against him, pinned and wrung tight with pleasure.

They could hear hints in each other’s pants, grunts and cries, throwing them both into an elated gallop toward the finish. She bucked against him. He bit the flesh at joint of her shoulder and neck. She cried out long and arched against him, before collapsing. He cursed and withdrew just in time to finish on her with a groan.

\--

He returned with a cloth and cleaned her as she lay, softly rising and falling, still yet recovering. He settled into the pillow beside her, wearing that superior look that had gotten him into trouble the first time. She would let him get away with it this time though. He had earned it.

She felt herself drifting from consciousness, then shook herself awake again. “Sorry.”

He smiled. “Why? This is the problem I said I would ‘elp you solve...or did you forget why you came ‘ere?” He teased.

She sighed, appreciating the handsomeness of his face more fully now that she was not searching it for motive. She rolled to cuddle into him with her back to him. 

"I hope you intend to 'ambush' me again sometime, mon chaton."   
  
She hummed contentedly in response. He scooped her closer, feeling her breath change as she fell asleep.


End file.
